


communion wine

by -aforesaid (floater)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Bottom Seo Youngho | Johnny, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, I forgot another obvious tag I’m so AHHHHH, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut, Warnings May Change, cant believe I forgot the fucking smut tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floater/pseuds/-aforesaid
Summary: nct drabbles and blurbs.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Seo Youngho | Johnny, Kim Jungwoo/Seo Youngho | Johnny, Mark Lee/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	1. [guide]

_a collection of drabbles, all nct/wayv :)_

_this'll have the warnings &details._

1\. markhei/lumark

_tw// religion, blasphemy_

2\. woojohn/johnwoo(?)  
 _  
cw// revenge porn_

3\. tenny/johnten

_tcw// tbd, I’m not sure_


	2. oh heavenly father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1k words; yukhei’s a bad boy with a lust-fueled crush on devoted church boy mark and wants to corrupt him badly. he gets the chance to and...it does not go the way he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah. there's actually no smut even tho it was supposed to happen sjkjdfjhggh maybe I'll add it after a while! you never know!! also it's written badly compared to how I write now...kind of hahahahaha

——////——

this is what yukhei‘s all about, you know? he’s the bad boy with the piercings and the tattoos and leather jackets, the boy with the dyed hair and loud voice; the attitude, the negative popularity—that’s who he is.

so this pretty, gentle little church boy, bumping into him near everyday? making him fantasize at night and die a little every time he spoke? it was just his thing at this point—he was just yukhei’s thing at this point.

because he’s the wong yukhei. a troublemaker, sure; but one who gets his way.

that holy little ass was just calling his name anyways! there’s no way he’d let it pass, of all times, when he’s so sick of hookers that he’d kept his dick in his pants for more than a day—no way!

he’s up for a little corruption if that’s what it takes to get a handful of mark lee.

until tables turn, drastically.

——////——

the first time he sees him, it’s in the garden of the neighbourhood church.

yukhei isn’t there willingly, he’s there for community service of course—where he’s supposed to fix up flowers and make sure the bushes stay in the form of a cross, for “the betterment of your outlook on life!” his counselor had said.

despite that, the only thing he’s done since he got there was piss on the rose bush and kick over a flowerpot.

because, really, who could ever enjoy this bullshit? the necks to the robes were itchy, he even had to put on the nun head scarf to cover his self-done bleaching—his shoes were tight and shiny as hell, and his belt was even tighter.

for the betterment of his outlook on life, or for his image? yukhei thought both were shallow.

gardening to rehabilitate, and a clean outfit with a ban of all his piercings and the exposure of his tats?

shallow.

there was no way he’d actually garden anyways—gardening was for pussies, and he’s a madman, a daredevil. not even weed could make him plant and water stupid little flowers.

but that’s not the point.

he had been poking at the moss on the mini jesus statue when he saw him—tall, but not too tall.

pretty, but not too pretty.

cute, but not too cute.

he was a mix of many things, handsome and yet delicate looking—but not too delicate, not too fragile.

it was something yukhei couldn’t quite explain.

he was just...attractive.

and even in these god forbidden robes, his ass looked round and sweet, like it was meant for yukhei’s hands.

he’d been counting some papers before he’d noticed yukhei—and his innocent looking eyes widened before he offered a curled little smile.

he walked away, and that was that.

but not for yukhei—no, him and that gentle little grin was all he could think about.

he wondered about being the reason for that smile for a bit, maybe just cuddle or talk to him—but that was boring, and ended quickly.

but when it progressed into more—more aggressive, sexual thoughts—it was game on.

——////——

at first, he’s a little cocky.

church boy meanders in with a gentle smile, and locks the door behind him—and yukhei anticipates the shock of his presence, feels excitement build up because mark might think he’s the only one in the greenhouse but—they make eye contact, and the reaction he gets it much less shocked; more so knowing.

it knocks him down a couple notches, but he smirks nonetheless—“hey.” he says, standing up from the bush, and he expects a little wave or a nod back, but mark doesn’t reply.

he just keeps walking closer, and then he’s unbuttoning his robe, and—this feels like a dream—but a really, really surreal one.

the buttons come undone, one by one, and yukhei expects it to stop—hell, he even anticipates waking up from this—but neither happen.

his face begins to warm up.

yukhei watches with (though he tries to seem unfazed) shocked eyes as the robe comes off and falls to the floor, then watches mark’s much smaller hands fly to his belt and—“I’m not blind.” he says, “I’m not dumb,” and he unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants, makes yukhei’s face go twenty shades redder at the sight of name brand boxers, black and smooth in fabric—

“so I won’t beat around the bush. either you get on yours knees or I can get on mine, doesn’t matter much.”

his reaction is...is more like immediate shock, of course, and it makes yukhei’s shoulders sag because he knows he looks pathetic, like a puppy scared out of it’s sleep; and he would fix it if he could, but he can’t.

he speaks before he can think, watching mark step forward.

he hesitantly steps back, face burning and cheeks red—“what?”

is this really his angelic church boy?

“I said it clearly, didn’t I?”

his back meets the wall, and mark braces a hand on the smooth material of the greenhouse, right at yukhei’s neck. this is fucked up, this is supposed to be the other way around—and yet...yukhei stutters.

“but...b-but you’re not serious, right?”

“am I serious?” he asks, “of course I am, who would joke about things like that in a house of god?” his lips curl into a smug smirk, and he lets his hand slide down to grab the blond’s injured shoulder—“so how ‘bout it?” he says, brow cocking, grip tightening so hard yukhei whimpers; “you’ll forget you’re even here.”

yukhei’s nape feels hot—does that mean mark was gonna do it? or would he? this isn’t really what he expected but—but he wanted it so bad, for so long. would it really matter?

“I’ve been told my dick is pretty mesmerizing, if that’s what your wonderin.”

yukhei feels his skin get searingly hot, feels like he’s melting really.

“fine.”

(never mind his bones crack while he kneels, yukhei still goes down, giving his holy boy the eye contact he says he likes.)

——////——


	3. closer now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2k words; jungwoo and johnny are roommates. jungwoo is very, very straight. and then he gets sent a certain kind of video and—woah, that’s definitely johnny in the video, and jungwoo is kind of very, very gay now? but this is the worst kind of situation, isn’t it...
> 
> ...
> 
> two things.
> 
> one: jungwoo is not _gay._
> 
> _and two...? johnny seo just became a lot more interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it is literally shite haha I was trying to get better at writing smut when I wrote it so ⊂((・x・))⊃ also kind of..? technically if I was more aware when I wrote this, this would be considered angst or smth instead of comedy, etc, bc uhhh revenge porn lowkey.

...

  
thin, lean muscle; thighs flex, smooth in texture, sweet and golden, warm and tan, yet ivory in colour—socked toes curl, an opened shirt slips down the sides of a slender waist, whimper-y words; large hands fisted in sheets, hesitant arch of a thin back.

he makes a tiny, tiny sound—rough, like a snarl, too much like the horrible sounds of heterosexual porn, awkward in tone—but then it bleeds into a sweet, loud sound; honeyed, high in pitch, buried behind shyness, sexy; an overall tempting moan—

it could be recent, or maybe not, he didn’t much look at him like that—but he’s thin, nothing like the person jungwoo had met, boasting acceptable muscle and proud to show it—just skinny, waist tiny and proportions beautiful but oh so small. it was concerning, sure, but who was jungwoo to assume or judge?

...but he resembled a doll like this, pink at joints and a blush at his nape; unmarked skin flushed, movements minuscule—and it only worsened the arousal.

and, damn, how he moans! like an angel singing—raspy, low, then high and squeaky; words of craze, yet shy in tone—though nothing will top the dark, inky blocks of a tattoo above his elbow; a hand holding a rose, lips against it...

this is his roommate?

his...admittedly handsome, now overly beautiful roommate?

then his hands become delicate in jungwoo’s eyes, the way he grips the strange mask he wore when he grabbed for it, down to his nails groomed—ignore this heteronormativity to the largest extent; but he suddenly becomes womanly, becomes a sexual fantasy in the most feminine way possible. yeah, it suddenly seems a lot better to be watching this, makes him hard—and yeah, jungwoo suddenly sees him in a whole different light now.

his eyes narrow, breathing hard and heavy—he watches that narrow chest heaving, up and down, then it stops for a moment, short lived—he mewls, hips slant as he shifts, reaction delicate as skilled, thick fingers pushed in and out of his body, over and over; a sensual, sexual cycle.

jungwoo lets out a giant breath, one he’d been holding just as long as he hadn’t blinked—because he’s never been interested in this, never wanted to see another man be fucked, but now he can’t help but curl into himself, trying not to go on and disgrace his entire life jerking it to his friend—watching some greaseball finger his roommate, harsh and rough...

and then he’s holding it again, probably unconsciously; watching without break, chest feeling coiled, shorts feeling tight.

“I want you to relax for me, can you do that?”is muttered, fishy lips pressing against soft skin, makes him whimper and—“can you relax for me, hm? be a good boy, open up for me.”—he nods, “y-yes.”—but all that he can see is the thing on his head; a permanent, smiling panda.

what a turn off—really, he can feel his dick wilt against his thigh...

then “AH!”

and he’s shocked right back into having a shameful boner as his roommate all but screams, shout of surprise, and suddenly he sees his skinny little thighs forced apart by a fatty body, and his back is arched—it doesn’t sound pained, like they probably played with him more, but it doesn’t really matter; some nasty, beer bellied white guy is suddenly balls deep inside of his roommate.

and he likes it.

(and don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t hate the guy for being fat or something just as frivolous as that—but in the light of the room, he looked like a slimy old creep; slobbering all over some poor, young boy...who just so happened to be jungwoo’s friend.)

then, the very moment the man is fully sheathed he begins a horribly fast pace, hips snapping back and forth so quick and hard there’s sound of skin to skin contact—his belly ripples, fat fingers a vice grip on youngho’s little hips; he looks absolutely greasy, nasty really, but all that matters is his beautiful, beautiful roommate; right?

he sobs, it’s squeaky and shaky in sound even, and he begs so sweetly—“please, p-please, wait!” but of course the pig of a man keeps it up, slamming his hips into little space given, abusive in the way he fucks into his roommate’s body; making his svelte figure tremble and jolt.

“I can’t!” he wails, fingers digging into fatty arms as he fruitlessly attempted to push the man off—and if in any other case, jungwoo would’ve thought this was a case of coercion, rape even; but by the way youngho arches, cute, short fingers moving from arms to spread and feel the way the man stretched him—

this would all be so much better if he had no mask—if he could see the way he bit his lips and moaned, mouth opened and eyes closed; would his brows furrow, would his pupils dilate, would he choke and beg and splutter and whimper with expressions lewd enough for anyone to enjoy?

probably.

but with this mask on, no one will ever know.

his nails leave reddened crescents on the man’s body, and he sobs out a moan every movement made—each sound repeated before it changes in pitch and tone, a little brain dead the way he can barely do anything other than ‘ah!’ and ‘oh!’ and croon every other desperate sound possible.

then he croaks out a wanton “hnng!” kind of sound once the man slows down; his thighs trembling, feet showing evidence of pleasure even the way clothed toes curl and feet flex—and then the man greedily begins to fuck into him harder again, as if he hadn’t tired himself out not even a minute ago, makes the bed frame shake as he pounds his heavy pelvis against youngho’s ass, so hard supple flesh jiggles.

the power of this greaseball’s hips sends his beautiful roommate into a frenzy, one of which results in his cock spurting cum across his belly thrice in one go; his moans loud and messy and utterly sexy...to jungwoo at least.

his back is arched so horribly gorgeous that his narrow chest seems so much thinner, and when he collapses back onto the mattress in defeat, the man only continues to abuse what jungwoo knows was quite small before it’d been penetrated by him—he grips the sheets tight, letting out breathless moans; and begs under his breath for it to hurry and end.

and then the stupid fat fuck all but trying to impregnate him moves his hands from youngho’s hips, drags them up the expanse of his skin; over ticklish ribs two times, then settles on small, no longer muscular pecs.

..and then two, fatty fingers pinch at a small, dusky bud—and a pretty body begins to shake, trembling.

“stopstopstop!” is wailed, the strange mask tips back and reveals his pretty, spit slick lips; red and puffy and—and the man dives in for a kiss that youngho sobs into, chest heaving unevenly as the man continued to tease and touch sensitive, sensitive nipples—

he cries, muffled by fishy lips and distorted as he’s fucked into impossibly hard—“slow down,” he begs, still a mess of whines and whimpers, shaking his head so he wouldn’t have to keep up the kiss, how unsweet, it makes jungwoo dislike the man even more—

but then jungwoo sees his wonderful roommate’s wet lips catch between pearly whites, and groans, crossing his legs once more as the mask tips back more and streaky tears are revealed.

almost—he can almost see his face, almost see his erotic little expressions, almost see his pretty brown eyes and neat, cleaned brows all knotted up and—

the man pulls the mask back down, mumbles some nasty words under his breath—“slut,” he says, “you’re a dirty slut,” and youngho shakes, denies the words every time—“but you love how this feels, hm? you like having me deep in you, hm? slut.”

“mhm!” comes the horribly shameless reply, makes jungwoo absolutely die because he knows what youngho’s thinking—he’s not a slut, he’s not a whore, but he likes it; he likes being fucked, likes being stretched and forced full until he can’t control himself—

“you’re a good boy, a lil angel.” the stupid fuck groans, slamming his hips forward, drilling into his poor, skinny little roommate—he leans down and catches a perky bud between his teeth, lathers a nasty stripe of spit across it once, before kissing it and—

youngho sobs, rambling, trying his best to push the man off—he’s so confused it’s sexy, trying to grind down against each thrust yet pushing the man by his shoulders, begging for relief but stressing that it was too much.

jungwoo is used to this though, in the form of screeching japanese girls with cute boobs and crooked teeth—he’s used to the overly sensitive bodies that twitch and jolt and bend and twist, to the shaky thighs and cute moans and shy words—he’s used to the ugly, goggled or masked men fucking into some sweet thing with no mercy till she’s a squirting mess—to senseless girls after getting drilled by guys with average dicks—

but this is his roommate, and it makes things ten times hotter, twenty times worse, and a million times more alluring—because it’s youngho who’s sensitive and whimpering and willing to be pounded into oblivion by some fat fuck obsessed with touching his spent dick and shaking thighs.

hell yeah he’d be stuck touching all over youngho too, but it’s not him and that’s what sucks so bad..

maybe he should ditch the innocent friend persona and get on with his life, because there was no way he wasn’t gonna try and get in youngho’s pants now.

when his eyes refocus on the screen of his phone, the position is a bit awkward—youngho is on his back still, but a little on his side; his ankle is gripped in the man’s hold, and he’s still pushing at his shoulders with all his might; but the flabby fucker is slowly, slowly drilling into his ass, and the camera can see it now.

the lube has foamed from how inhuman the man was being not even four minutes ago, and the condom is slowly but surely rolling down his cock and bunching up at the tip—but he keeps going, pushing and pulling and fucking into youngho until—

until he hits that spot—jungwoo can tell it’s that spot—and youngho croons this sexy little moan out, hands falling from shoulders to his belly and—

he cutely shakes his head, begs the man not to do it again, presses into his stomach as if he can feel him there, and draws his legs in to close them—

and his begs only cause it to happen once more—then again, and again, and again; until he cums wetly on his tummy and shakes so hard the man trembles too.

then, like a punch to the gut, the man pulls out.

he rolls the condom off his engorged cock and tugs it a few times before roughly forcing youngho to cant his hips. just like that, he shoots his load against his beautiful roommate’s quivering, slightly gaping entrance—then there’s panting, sniffles and hiccuped moans—

and just like that, the video ends.

jungwoo drops his phone just as fast as he drops his pants to jack off.

///

the moment youngho walks into the room, jungwoo feels his breath catch in his throat.

he’d basically betrayed the only guy who doesn’t think of him as the cutesy, girly dude with a loud, boyish girlfriend—the only guy who doesn’t act like he’s a chick with a dick, he’d betrayed!

by tugging it to a video of him getting wrecked by a creepy fat guy!

in the form of a threat!

definitely not the best move to make, but definitely the move he made.

“hey?” youngho mutters out, seemingly confused—but what can jungwoo do but focus on his bare, tan legs and the loose shorts he’s got on—and that damn white tee that’s only a thread away from being invisible.

he bites into an apple with a curious face, and jungwoo remembers the way he’d cringed from that kiss and—“hey youngho.” he blurts out, quick and in one breath. thank god he didn’t say what he was thinking.

(because his brain was telling him to say he’d like it if youngho bent over and submit like a good boy so he can fuck him so good he couldn’t walk right—and that just isn’t good, now is it?)

thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice jungwoo’s utter nervousness. “hey woo, whaddya doing?” he questions, smiling gently before he approaches; each step making jungwoo’s heart rate soar.

his mind wanders again—this is the pretty body that resisted and writhed yet accepted each thrust like a little slut? the cute, fuckable ass and sexy thighs and pretty, hairless body, and just how could his voice get so soft, so high, so pretty—jungwoo feels his pants tighten at his groin almost immediately. that’s not good either...

“uh, yea—uhm, I...” he trails off, watches his beautiful roommate twist to look back and stare at him and—jungwoo wishes he turned back around, he wanted to see his ass just one last time—

oh god, what is he, in high school again?

youngho meanders over and nearly drops his apple but giggles lowly and—“you’re such a goofball.” he says, shaking his head, fitting himself next to jungwoo and curling up beside him.

“uh..so, what happened yesterday?” jungwoo diverts, even though his heart feels like it’s about to come out of his chest— because youngho’s shorts have inched up his thighs, and his leg is touching his own and, he keeps innocently biting into that stupidly huge apple; keeps looking so damn alluring.

he really feels like he’s in high school all over again, getting hard-ons over some poor unsuspecting girl that just so happened to be wearing a nice bra—except this time it’s a guy who just so happens to have a ‘video’ and just so happens to be wearing basically nothing.

his eyes widen just a bit, then he clears his throat and shifts—now he’s splayed across the couch comfortably, laying his legs across jungwoo’s lap without even asking...though he can’t really complain.


	4. spontaneous love making!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1k words; ten’s girlfriend is absolutely batshit crazy, ten needs somewhere to stay for the night; johnny is the best option.
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> only best friend ten’s got and he’s the coolest, chillest person ever. and he’s gay. (arguably, a classic and posh gay.) cue a sexuality crisis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s from early 2019 (I think) and it..? it’s like I forgot about the little summary I wrote at the top bc it was not. one. night. 
> 
> points for proper, posh johnny tho :D wat a cutie. I can hear his little lisp mixed with the whole thing. so cute
> 
> absolutely no points for ten.

///

“god, she’s a fucking lunatic!” he exclaims, plopping down onto the soft cushion of johnny’s couch—damn, he really knew how to decorate. the whole damn place was soft and matching and artsy and all the good, kind of gay shit.

makes sense though, johnny’s the only gay guy ten knows.

he huffs and snatches up one of the decorative pillows he’d crushed behind him, squeezing it in his lap. “she set my phone on fire and tried to shank me! for what!? my sister called me and she thought I was cheating on her! with my own sister!” he all but wails, flailing and shaking his leg fitfully before he slumped over and sighed.

youngho only hums, leaving the room just for a moment before he came back; a tray and a cup of tea in hand.

“hope you like chamomile.” he mumbles, and ten dopily grins at that—if this was any other person, he would’ve thought he was completely ignored just now, but this is johnny we’re talking about—the “old soul” kid who treated everything like he was a character straight from a perfect story; except, not straight or white or overall cheesy.

“ugh,” he starts, watching johnny’s legs as he walks over to the only other chair in the room, and it’s then he finds himself appreciating the overall bowed look to them.

hm.

he finds it an attractive quality—too bad his girlfriend was a boxy bitch that tried to kill him every time he so much as looked at her.

“you still act like an elderly person, it’s hard to believe you’re a gay guy in your twenties.” he finishes, finally dragging his gaze back up to johnny’s face—which dons a very, very unimpressed expression.

“at least I’m not like you.” he singsongs back, rolling his eyes when ten abruptly sits back up and offers a playful middle finger.

“what’s so bad about partying and getting drunk though! it’s all fun!” he says, finally taking a sip from the tea he’d been brought. he barks out an angry “ouch” when it burns his tongue, but under the (still) unamused stare of youngho, he doesn’t think to stop drinking.

“one, it’s not safe, and two; you’ll end up dating weirdos named either chittaphon or mirae—both of which I’d gladly avoid even if they could save my life.” johnny replied, clicking his tongue before he stood right back up; “and, sorry, but I’ve gotta go to sleep for work now. enough chitchat, let’s save the gossip for tomorrow, hm?”

“already?” ten whispers, glancing from youngho’s face to his watch, startled by the fact that the dull numbers read 2:59am.

johnny nods, gives ten a pat on the head, then rounds the couch he’s sitting in, and flicks off the light to his kitchen.

ten just sighs, shaking his head before he flopped back over. “whatever, that was very gay of you.”

youngho snorts and mutters a “thanks” before he shuffles off and away, and eventually the only sounds ten hears are from the television right in front of him.

///

“uhm, I’ve got to, to shower in here if you don’t mind?” he mutters, looking just shy of regretful.

ten only snorts, chin digging into his own sternum as he lazily played games on his phone—“it’s your house, I don’ really care.” he says, and he barely glances up when youngho replies, just sits there and continues tapping at his screen like he has been for the past week.

and then, after a considerable amount of time and utter will to live, the phone cuts off.

he throws an absolute fit when he dies—it was at 90% and all, but it was set on fire so..? he doesn’t know what he was expecting.

he sulks and drags himself around the house for a bit before he finally stuffs himself back in the bed; waiting for johnny to come back out.

a small part of him wonders if that lanky-since-birth boy would even dare come out naked.

/////

“you know, you could stay at a hotel.” youngho suggests after a moment of (most likely) unbearable staring.

ten just scoffs—or snorts, maybe a mix really—and leans back into his chair.

they’re drinking tea again, it’s probably 2am again, but it’s been more than an estimated week, and ten’s half naked and melted into the couch lazily.

“just say you want me dead and go.” he mumbles back, taking one last sip before he falls back into his mess of blankets.

a little unexpected, the reply he gets is a laugh and a horrible snort and—

“I have a date tonight.” he says, “I want you to stay so he doesn’t try anything. it’s funny teasing you, though.”

/////

“I’m flattered, really, but I think—ah! excuse me, I really don’t appreciate that.” then a clatter of keys, something else dropping, “christ, let go!” youngho says, then “ow, ouch stop that—god, I’m terribly sorry, but I think you should go.” ten hears, and it immediately prompts him to stand and go observe the situation.

what he sees is youngho, disastrously placid youngho, prying some guy’s hands off his ass as he guides him out the door.

ten steps in quietly, offering a “need help getting back onto the main street?” to the man...

who seems to look him up and down, snort, then continue groping his temporary roommate.

youngho shoots him a desperate look, lips in a thin line as the guy continued to move them back into the house; hands getting even friskier as he almost greedily squeezed—

‘no hotels, ever.’ he mouths to youngho, mortified, and the taller man just groans and rolls his eyes; still trying to peel the man off of him.

so the date does try something—in fact, he tries it right in front of ten.

and ten’s supposed to help...but he just doesn’t know how.

now he’s got youngho caged in against the counter, parting his thighs with his own, slobbering all over youngho’s neck like an inbred vampire trying to figure out how to eat—all despite the fact that youngho has said rather clearly, “no thanks you fucking oaf, I’d rather suck face with a blobfish than fornicate with you!”

or at least that’s what ten made imagination-youngho say.

“alright,” he finally sighs out, broken out of his short trance as youngho yells out in distress; the guy seemingly picking him up—he tugs at the guy’s arm, and much to the brute’s surprise, he tears right off of youngho.

“bad boy. outside.” ten taunts, shaking his head as he yanked the gigantic guy out the house and dragged him to the sidewalk.

/////

“jeez man, when’s the last time you got laid?” ten questions, and the tipsy little giggle he gets in reply makes him think he’s wrong—maybe he’s been too caught up in the past to realize his old fashioned friend had a good sex life, probably got more ass than he did—but youngho answers a slurred little “a while ago” and giggles again, and it makes the hand he’s got on youngho’s hip tighten its grip.

“what? you’re not seriously thinking about what I said, right?”

ten raises a brow, moves another hand to rest somewhere on youngho—“don’t act like it couldn’t happen.” he says, and when johnny laughs he further moves, caging him in with his arms. “don’t laugh, be serious.” he then said, following youngho’s gaze each time he tried to avoid eye contact. finally fed up, he moved his weight to balance on his left arm, and used his right hand to hold johnny’s face.

“I’m serious.” he says, absolutely deadpan.

however, despite his persistence, youngho only giggles again, shifting so much that gentle touch falls to his chest—“you’re straight, bub. it really couldn’t happen.”

the sentence brings ten to a blank, and he sighs before pulling away, frowning. “fine.”

///


End file.
